#pureblood

[simply-ivanka]

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[nerdyperday]

Day 3112 Neoshadow

[yume-ship]

Even sealed away, my heart still remembers your name.

[poetryandbloods-blog]

Druella and Narcissa.

[inthemoodforblastt]

I guess the only "mixed couple" in Harry Potter that "worked out" was James and Lily. I mean, they may have been killed, but it was because of something completely different, not because of their magical status. We are meant to believe they were a perfect couple until they died. But what happened to that perfect couple? Lily cut all ties with her muggle family and went to live in the magical world as a full witch. James, on the other hand, never had to learn anything about muggle society.

So, what's the point here? That muggleborns can coexist with wizards, but only as long as they lose that part of their identity, and become fully integrated in wizard society? They can only be accepted if they look the same as purebloods?

I completely agree with you. While JKR wanted to sell the message that prejudice against muggles is wrong, but never shows us a functional, happy mixed family. On the contrary, she shows us that relationships between muggles and wizards always end up in disaster.

But they’re not a “mixed couple” because Lily is a fucking witch, guys, lol. She belongs to James’s world and she has powers just like Hermione. I get why people call them “half-bloods”, but they’re not on the same level as Snape or McGonagall, who were actually raised in a mixed environment.

“Half-bloods” with two magical parents are raised in the wizarding world, they don’t have any real Muggle experience. So that couple doesn’t count in the same way, just like Hermione and Ron wouldn’t count either, for example.

But yeah, the whole thing about Muggle-born kids cutting off all ties with their families is weird as fuck. Hermione is an only child and her parents adore her, but as she gets older she doesn’t even go home for the holidays anymore, like, hello? In what world is that normal?

It’s as if you’re expected to renounce your identity and fully immerse yourself in magical culture or else it just doesn’t work. That makes no sense. Just like it makes no sense for Rowling to talk about Cho Chang marrying a Muggle in a derogatory way, as if it were something bad, while we’re supposedly meant to see pure-bloods as awful for hating Muggles.

Because at that point, pure-bloods are just externalising a broader social prejudice that even Muggle-borns themselves end up internalising, lmao.

[apathetic-kiss]

The Rosier Family being social outcasts amongst the rest of the Sacred 28, not out of disgust or betrayal, but rather due to how the other families hold a morbid curiosity and slight fear towards the pure-bloods who seem to isolate themselves more than any other family.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Rosiers produced peculiar looking heirs; they all shared the same bone-white hair and gaping eye-bags, facial structure like fine china and long, bendy limbs. The children were always strange, seemingly intellectual and wise beyond their years, darkened pupils that seemed to stare into your soul if you made eye-contact for too long. They would chatter amongst themselves, rarely talking to the other pure-blood youths, preferring to whisper to each other in soft mumbles and squeaks. The Rosier children were never sent to Hogwarts, and rarely attended pure-blood banquets and balls. If they did, they trailed behind their parents and hid away in corners, blending in with the cryptids and ghosts which seemed to haunt every old wizarding mansion. When they aged, the Rosier offspring tended to become even more hermit-like; there was no presenting a daughter to society, no celebrations of a boy coming-of-age in the same way there was in other pure-blood families. They instead would disappear from pure-blood society for years at a time, their parents or aunts or siblings airily mentioning that they were abroad at the time.

In adult-hood, it was said the Rosiers only had one path of employment, and that was none. The blood-line was made up of inventors, of researches and explorers and users of dark magic, of witches and wizards who travelled the world and did unspeakable things in the name of discovery. Whispers existed amongst the Sacred 28 in regards to what the Rosiers had managed to uncover, invent, and twist their magic into, with rumours of anything from successful immortality, inter-species breeding, artificial life, and spells, hexes, and potions beyond one's wildest imagination. Whenever a Rosier died (as very few of them seemed to make it to old age), it was usually due to a tragic accident, a spell gone wrong or being mauled to death by a mysterious creature, a mix-up of potions or something along the lines of accidental, self-inflicted insanity. The private events such as funerals were barred from anyone outside the family line, preventing any further investigation into the births, lives, and deaths of the Rosiers.

The exception was if there ever was to be a union of two families when a wedding was held on the mysterious lawns of the Rosier mansion. Even then, it was kept relatively private, with only the immediate family of the non-Rosier spouse allowed to be in attendance, and the presence of a single writer to detail the events of the ceremony for the Sacred 28's records. However, weddings only ever seemed to happen once every forty years or so; there was only usually a single sibling married in a generation, the others dying mysteriously young or pledging themselves to their work for all eternity. It was as though the Rosiers only ever interacted and joined with another family for the sake of continuing the blood-line, and other than that would rather stay hidden away on the acres of property and endless wealth accumulated by the family over the generations.

The birth of twins Evan and Pandora Rosier was kept a secret from the rest of the Sacred 28 until their fifth birthday, when their mother brought them along to a morning tea hosted at a pure-blood mansion for the women to discuss the current political sphere of the wizarding world. The other women were shocked when Céline Rosier floo-ed into the mansion, her first public appearance in almost six years (they always invited her and her husband to events out of obligation and politeness, but the two very rarely showed to events. Secretly, the other family members were always slightly relieved when they didn't.). They were even more surprised at the addition of two white-haired children clinging to her robes, who she whispered to softly and sent outside to the court-yard to see the other children. Céline's sister, Druella Black, embraced her tightly, though the fury at her exclusion from her sister's life ever was apparent on her face; the family had cut her off both socially and financially after she chose to move to the Black family mansion instead of raising her children on the Rosier ancestral land. People had whispered about how this apparent betrayal to her roots and her aligning with the Black family instead would place a curse on her and her children, the rumours already whirling after her boys were born and were missing the signature pale hair; Druella had dyed her hair black the day after Sirius was born, a sign of rebellion against anyone who dared question her allegiance to the Blacks. Still, as they grew older, the lack of resemblance between the Rosier twins and the Black boys became more and more apparent regardless of the closeness in blood relativity. Nobody dared bring up the curse again, and Druella's maiden name and the history of her roots was never mentioned in Sacred 28 circles again.

Evan and Pandora grew up the same way generations of their ancestors had; isolated, surrounded by books, and most of all, alone. Their parents spent most of their days locked away in their own workshops, the job of child-rearing left to various members of staff and random family members who lived around the property. There were always wizarding scientists and researchers and medical professionals popping in and out of the mansion, some staying for tea and some staying for six months at a time, some who ignored the children and some who taught Evan everything he knew about potions. Though some would argue that this was no way for children to grow up, the twins would disagree; they had free-reign of the giant house and surrounding property, no bed time or limitations and complete access to their family library which had been accumulated over centuries to house over twenty-thousand books and manuscripts. When Pandora was eight, she decided she was going to read everything in the library before she died, even if it took her reading all day every day of her life (she gave this up not even twelve days into it, when had Evan begged her to put down the books and come camp down at the creek with him. She had obliged). They spent the first eleven years of their lives reading constantly and desperately, devouring novels and spell books and potion guides and studies on muggles and wizarding magazines and whatever they could get their hands on. They made potions and taught themselves non-verbal magic, experimenting with animals and transfiguration and manipulated all kinds of elements and metals and objects. They never learnt the distinction between light and dark magic, it all seemingly just a tool for them to learn how to further their skills. It was an incredible way to grow up according to them, and they wouldn't have changed it for the world. But before their shared eleventh birthday, everything had changed.

When the pair woke up and received their Hogwarts letters, they had simply tossed them to the ground and gone on with their day; Hogwarts was irrelevant to them, and only existed vaguely in their peripheral thoughts as something that other magical children were a part of. However, that night when they sat down for a very rare family meal, Céline had announced that the twins would be starting at the boarding school in September. That decision was final. After some push-back from her children, she had shut them down with a no-arguments look and the twins fell silent. They looked at each other with slight hesitation, not knowing what the hell to expect from this switch-up in the routine and life-style they had known all their life. That summer, Pandora had buried herself in books and journals written about Hogwarts and by Hogwarts students, attempting to learn and memorise everything she could about the school and its history. Evan on the other hand, was in complete denial; he shut down any mention of the school by his mother or sister, and refused to engage in Pandora's discussion about aspects of the curriculum or what their experiences at the school may be. He spent most of his time leading up to their departure for Hogwarts locked in the upper rooms of the mansion, experimenting on frogs and rats and mice as he perfected more spells and potions he was working on (though he did occasionally allow Pandora to join him and help work out the flaws in his potion-work, as long as she promised no mention of their upcoming time at the educational institute that will not be named).

The first problem that came along at Hogwarts was the expectation that they mingle with the other pure-blood families; they had only very rarely interacted with other children, and so the idea that they were supposed to befriend and talk to these other pure-bloods was an alien concept to them. Evan and Pandora had spent a little time with Regulus and Sirius as kids, but the brothers were already sitting with Sirius' Gryffindor friends in another carriage. However, this did mean the twins had an excuse to sit alone together and bury themselves in books (Pandora in her now-battered copy of Hogwarts; a History, and Evan in a definitely illegal book on the anatomy of various creatures and how to best butcher them for black-market sale).

The second problem that arose for the twins was the discovery at the sorting ceremony that they were to be in different houses. Evan was called up first, and the whispers had already begun about which house the first Rosier to ever attend Hogwarts would be in. The hat barely touched his head before shouting out Slytherin, and he had made a bee-line for where Regulus was seated with the other first years on the table. However when the hat was placed on Pandora's head, it had deliberated for a few seconds before calling out Ravenclaw. Evan had felt his face drop and the his look of horror matched Pandora's own; there was nothing wrong with Ravenclaw of course, but the awfulness of not being in the same house as his sister was something that hadn't even crossed his mind. They had spent their whole lives together, they were attached at the hip, they were practically the same person, right? Right? He watched Pandora drift over to her house table with a mournful look on her face, nodding with fake reassurance at her when their eyes locked. They would make this work.

The third problem Hogwarts presented the twins was the issue of their apparent disconnection from the rest of the wizarding world. Though this was something that had never bothered them before, and something they had in fact felt proud of in their childhood, it was now becoming a problem. Evan had never shared a room with anyone aside from Pandora, and his social skills... left room for improvement. His room-mates, Regulus and Barty, thought he was a total asshole who hated the both of them, when in reality he simply didn't understand the premise of politeness; he and Pandora had always been brutally honest to one another and to their parents, and this just seemed like the norm until he arrived at Hogwarts. Pandora's roommates on the other hand seemed to catch on to her apparent otherness immediately, and quickly shunned her from their group for being weird and creepy (it actually took Pandora a few weeks to catch onto the fact that they were being mean to her; she just figured the other girls were ignoring her out of nerves, the same way she was anxious every time she tried to start a conversation with them. She discovered this was not the case though after the fifth time she had tried to talk to one of them, and they had all left the room giggling and pointing at her). Neither of them made any real friends in their first year, and were utterly miserable.

Things perked up in their second year. Regulus had gotten into a fight with Sirius over summer and the two were no longer on speaking terms. Barty's presence had started to become truly annoying to Regulus, so Evan and Pandora became the only ones Regulus deemed appropriate company as the two were happy to sit in silence and read together. Pandora also managed to befriend an older Slytherin girl, Dorcas, as the two had striked up a conversation about Herbology in the library and become study partners. Dorcas was struggling in her third-year potions, a subject Pandora was well-versed in and knew all kinds of tips and tricks in. Pandora was barely passing Defence Against the Dark Arts as the theory was mind-numbingly boring to her, but luckily it was Dorcas' best subject. Evan and Regulus were quickly added to their study group due to their proficiency in other subjects, and when he could be convinced to shut up, Barty would sometimes lounge on a nearby table and pretend to do work. How he managed to have the highest grades of all of them, that was the true mystery.

Their little rag-tag group of five only grew closer over the years at Hogwarts, and stuck together through all the triumphs and traumas. They were there for each other when Dorcas was made quidditch captain, when Sirius ran away and Regulus was left alone, when Evan and Pandora's mother died in fifth year, when Regulus was made a prefect, when Dorcas' sister contracted a terminal illness, when Barty came back from Christmas break with red marks up and down his back. They were there for each other through it all, and Evan never knew the meaning of found family until their group of five found each other; to the Rosiers, family was blood and blood was family, end of story. He had never known there was an alternative, but he didn't care; his mother and father had never held him when he cried, but Dorcas had wrapped her arms around him after he broke down thinking of his mother being lowered into the ground.

And, after everything went down and everything went to shit, Regulus and Barty had held him in the shower as his shoulders shook, terror and fear and mourning wracking his body as he thought of Pandora. His beautiful sister, the most important person in his life, the other half of his soul had denounced him, had said she would kill him herself if she ever saw him again, had screamed at him with ferocity unseen ever before after seeing the tattoo that now decorated his forearm. She'd refused to listen to him and his pleas to join him, to follow him into the darkness of discovery, to become powerful together. After everything they had been through, they'd each chosen family in their own way; Evan, in following Regulus and Barty into the darkness Voldemort's growing allegiance, and Pandora, in remaining isolated from the affairs of the outer wizarding world, in separating herself from anyone who was not blood or who betrayed their blood, and in cutting off their apparent found family at the drop of a hat.

At the end of the day, it all came back to family, to the Rosiers, and to the endless, relentless isolation.

Evan died alone on a battle-field, his body left on a beach to be reclaimed by the elements as his soul departed for the afterlife. Pandora felt the second he left this plane of existence, a string inside of her cut and leaving her forever longing for the brother she had lost a long time ago. She had looked out her kitchen window after the day of his death, seeing a pair of two dark-haired men standing in the paddock across from the Rosier mansion, the empty space left for her twin apparent in the middle of the two men. They had all looked at one another for a moment, before her old friends had disapparated into the winds of the day. Pandora sighed quietly, a tear falling down her face as turned back towards the bubbling cauldron she was minding. She wiped her face quickly as she heard her husband walking up the stairs, and fixed her face with a soft smile.

Pandora died alone in the backyard of her childhood home, a flash of blue light being the last thing she saw before her body fell to the ground. Her last thought was not of her twin, but rather of her daughter he never got to meet, and the regret she felt at subjecting her to seeing her mother die like that. As she felt herself cross into the afterlife, it was as though a part of her soul let out a sigh of relief. Though she was leaving behind her family, she was to join Evan and her parents once again. Maybe that was for the best.

Xenophilius locked up the Rosier mansion for good after his wife was buried in the family graveyard, moving his young daughter away from the house which had always rubbed him the wrong way. The halls, the bedrooms, workshops, and library would stay empty for many years, preserved with spells and protective enchantments keeping the mansion pristine and untouched by the years gone by. If one were to visit now, it would look as though the Rosiers were still there, and perhaps had simply gone for a walk, and would return any minute. They say the ghosts of the Rosier bloodline still haunt the house, the chatter of laughter and the sound of scribbling and the turning of pages echoing through its empty, abandoned hallways.

Another family lost, forgotten to the magic of time passing.

[augustsongliterature]

PUREBLOOD PRIVILEGE

This is an introduction to my fanfiction, Pureblood Privilege, the Perfect Doll of the Black Family.

This fanfiction is one I posted and completed a year ago. The reason I am digging up an old fanfiction is simple: I have a new one ready to post now. Once I update my blog with all the content about my previous fanfiction, I will begin the upload of my newest work.

I said I would return. I didn't lie.

Now to introduce this fanfiction, it's important to note that it takes place in the Harry Potter Universe.

I was officially sorted into Slytherin via the Wizarding World website. At first I was shocked because of the negative connotations I had from the books. I had been a longtime fan of Harry Potter since the books first came out when I was about 7, and the first movie came out when I was due to get my own letter from Hogwarts (I never did, by the way).

Soon, as I got older and matured, I realized the complexities of the Slytherin House, and what it meant to be a pureblood. The intense social implications were not lost on me, and I grew increasingly fascinated by the what ifs.

So I spun a story. A story showing the struggles of being a pureblood in a society where blood status is everything. And I had a goal: make it a companion piece for the original work instead of an alternative universe piece. I wanted it to be a believeable addition to the events of Harry Potter as it was written.

The Male Lead? Severus Snape. The Female Lead...? A hidden sibling of Sirius Black.

Runestella Black. Regulus Black's twin sister.

Without further adieu, here is an excerpt of the first chapter. I will post the link to read it after the excerpt.

The Doll's Monster Fiancé

How many days had she been stuck in the same room? She was unsure. At first she had kept a tally on the stone walls by scraping loose rubble along bricks, but without any sort of guiding daylight to help her keep track of the cycle of hours the tally soon became useless and confusing.

It was a perfect prison. All that was in the room was a thin mattress with a patchwork blanket, a bucket for relieving herself, and a bucket for water. That, and of course an entire potions laboratory. It was the purpose for her imprisonment after all. There were jars upon jars of ingredients lining the walls alphabetically, along with vials both full and empty. On an elevated table were multiple cauldrons set over a fire that she could activate at any time. Scales, mortar and pestles, and a knife and cutting board littered the surface of the long table. There was an hourglass she used for timing, but it was so consistently turned and twisted for potions that it was useless for keeping a calendar. The corner of the room held a tank that used to be full of frogs.

Because she was allowed to keep her wand for finishing potions she was able to keep herself clean and continuously summon water. Every time she was visited they forced her to surrender it under the door before anyone could enter, and the entire room was enchanted so her magic had no effect on the walls or doors, but inside of her space she could use magic as she wished.

Unfortunately she couldn't summon food so easily. It was one of the limitations of magic, and it was a glaring limitation since she had long run out of food and no one had visited in a long while.

At first she cooked and ate the clean dead frogs. The ones that hadn't been contaminated by her experimentations. But soon all of the frogs were dead, either of starvation, experimentation or poisoning, and she had to burn them before they made the room stink.

Now she was the only living creature in the space.

Not even bugs could venture past the magical wards so she was forced to start eating ingredients. Anything that wasn't completely toxic she ate. At first it was the safe ingredients like flobberworm mucus, vile as it was with his viscous texture, and bitter burdock root. But then she had to eat the less safe variants. Things that made her throat burn and her stomach twist.

Then there was nothing left but things that would outright kill her. At one point in her starvation journey she thought to just eat the poison, but she grew too weak to even open the jars. Her past self had sealed them tightly for safety, but she cursed her forethought. Now she sat, leaning on the mattress with her wand in hand, whispering Lumos every few minutes so that she wasn't left in the dark.

She knew she was going to die.

Her body was thin and frail, nothing left on her bones to sustain herself, and her stomach boiled with painful hunger. Now that she was too weak to make water her throat was parched, her tongue thick in her mouth. Staring at her lighted wand tip, she thought deeply about why she was there.

The damned potions...

It was a mistake to excel at potions.

As a member of the Pureblood Black household she was held to high standards. She was born as a twin to Regulus Black and was made to comply with the demands of the pure lineage in her veins.

How she wished she could be as flippant as her older brother Sirius, but instead she did her best to impress her parents.

At the time she was desperate for attention.

Regulus was easy to manipulate and hailed as their heir, chosen in favor of their older brother Sirius because of his willingness to conform to their rigid "pureblood" ideology. Runestella bore a long and pretentious name to reflect Black traditions, a nod to astrology but still a mouthful, but was unsure of her place in this strange cult-like behavior. When it was discovered before she even entered Hogwarts that she was a prodigy at potions her parents leaned into her talents. Hard.

There was not a moment that Runestella didn't live and breathe potions after that.

She was their pride, just as Regulus was. And she was suffocated with that pride. Potion crafting was genuinely her passion, but it was hard to enjoy it when she had hands full of burns and arms covered in contact dermatitis from irritating ingredients. By her thirteenth birthday she had already made every known potion and was creating her own.

And it was then that her parents decided to meddle in her future more, pushing the concept of pure lineage. They all but sold her to the Avery family, close confidants to the Dark Lord. They decided that once she was done with Hogwarts, instead of becoming a Potioneer, as was her dream, she would marry Avery and continue to keep the family tree pure.

She hated Avery.

So much.

He was an insufferable little sadist. And he acted as if he already owned her; leering and dictating what she could wear and who she could speak to.

It was then that she was introduced to Severus.

Severus Snape.

A friend of her 'fiancee' who was on the list of those she could associate with.

Her mind drifted as she stared at the Lumos charm, blinking in and out like a firefly.

The image of a small boy, svelte and brooding, came to mind. He wore the robes of Slytherin, just like she did, and kept to himself for the most part. Often she would find him thumbing through a potions book or a dark magic text, sitting under the shade of a tree and enjoying the fresh air.

Meek. Unproblematic. Brilliant.

In love with Lily Evans...

But overall the least insufferable person she could speak to without getting tossed around by Avery. They made small talk about the theory behind minced bubotuber vs bubotuber powder and its subsequent effects in potion crafting. And through their talks she found he was almost as bright as she was about potions.

It became habit to seek him out when Avery had been rough with her and sit quietly at his side, soothing herself with his calm aura. And if Lily came, her heart would ache to lose her safe place but she would stand and leave without a fuss.

Once she came upon Severus in a ruffled state, having been strung up a willow tree by the Marauders, a group of Gryffindor friends and bullies. One of their number was her older brother, Sirius, who had found his place with his friends instead of his family.

"Sev!" She scampered up the grass hill, kicking up blades of lawn in her haste, before whipping out her wand.

"Descendo!"

The spell holding him up released and he toppled to the ground. She just barely managed to cushion his fall with Arresto Momentum when she closed the distance.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine." He hissed, pulling his arm from her worried grip. She didn't take it personally. Red flushed the tips of his ears in embarrassment so she knew he was just upset.

"Those idiots." Tears choked her voice and she looked over at the group of boys responsible, the group of them rowdy and out of hand. Her older brother, Sirius, laughed alongside James Potter. Rune couldn't help but feel her lips pull into a frown in distaste.

She hated bullies.

"I'll have a talk with Sirius about keeping his friends in check. Ever since he met that James Potter he-" Runestella stood up to confront them but this time Severus grabbed her, holding her back. Everyday Runestella dealt with abuse heaped on her from her intended, Avery, and still she wanted to confront the biggest bullies of the school. It was admirable, but reckless. She was a few years younger than Severus and Sirius which made her small and vulnerable, and she was naturally petite to boot.

"It's fine, Rune." He hissed again, dropping her hand and brushing the grass from his robes. "When have your brothers ever listened to you?"

It was a harsh truth. She couldn't refute it.

Instead she dropped to the grass beside him, curling into a small shape.

"You're right." She whispered. "I just wanted to help."

Severus softened at her small voice, glancing to her face for the first time. Shame had kept his eyes elsewhere, but now he noticed that she had a small bruise by her eye.

"Merlin, Rune. Did Avery do that?"

"What? No!" Covering her face, she cursed herself for being forgetful. Like always she had meant to use a Wiggenweld Potion to cover any scars or bruises so no one would know how severe it had become.

"I'm okay." It was a lie. They both knew it. But Severus could see from the way she stared at him in a panic, afraid of the fallout, that there was nothing he could do for her.

"I heard your potion was submitted to the Ministry." Starting a new topic to distract her, probably because she looked like she was going to cry, he leaned back and looked up to the sky. Severus was starting to relax. Because Rune was there, Sirius wouldn't let James come over and bother Severus. Being a little sister gave her armor, so for the moment they had peace and could enjoy the day.

"Oh. Yes..." She glanced away.

Walburga Black had been thrilled when the Ministry announced her as a genius and added her potion to the index of known successful brews. It was in the advanced section and none of the staff Potioneers were able to replicate it. The Minister had already offered her a permanent position after graduation. Her dream career.

A position that Walburga firmly declined because she was to be married to Avery.

But they still called her a miracle brewer, spreading chatter of her abilities and even publishing articles about it in the Daily Prophet. She was lauded as the type of genius that came around once in a millennia.

There was so much pressure... and she couldn't live up to it. Her wedding ring was practically a shackle.

She could continue to make history at least. One index entry at a time, quietly making strides with no professional title. While she brewed potions away at Avery's home as a housewife, that is. If she had free time.

"Rune?" Severus saw her mood shift for the worse.

"Ah, I…"

Her mind drifted to her argument with Regulus. He was mad about how Avery treated her as well, but he assured her it was for the family. For the good of wizard kind. That she had a responsibility to pass on the magical blood circulating through her veins, just as he did. And that he would eventually get married too, so she shouldn't feel like it was too unfair.

Reg knew everything. He knew about the beatings and the name calling and the control.

And he let it happen.

She tried not to hold it against him. Regulus was the same age as she was. He had a little more power in their social circle because he was a boy, but he was still under an immense amount of pressure.

"I…" Tears came up and she tried to stop them but they poured over her cheeks anyways.

"Hey…" Severus leaned forward he wiped the tears from her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

The concern from the usually prickly guy made her break even further. If only the one she was engaged to Severus instead. They had so much in common and he was so kind to her. If it were Severus she wouldn't be upset. Because she did like him. So stupidly much.

Another sob wracked her body and she curled into herself, pressing her face into her hands. Unsure of what else to do, Severus pulled her close to his side, hugging her while she cried.

It was the worst thing he could have done.

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[coma-hp]

The Aesthetic of Bellatrix Black

These are not just visual details — they are the trace of the Black family's touch, the darkness Bellatrix wore like an ornament.